Sunday Undies on a Saturday
by luvscharlie
Summary: Getting lucky on Halloween is harder than it looks. Some people really have to work at it. George/Lavender


**_Sunday __Undies __on __a __Saturday_ by Luvscharlie**

_**Author's **__**Notes/Warnings: **__The __title __came __from __something __I __heard __about __Penny __wearing __the __wrong __underwear __on __a __day __of __the __week __and __it __just __kind __of __stuck __in __my __head, __as __most __everything __Sheldon __says __does. __This __fic __was __originally __written __for __the __2011 __samhain_smut __fest __on __Live__Journal. __It __was __a __prompt __fest __that __must __centre __around __Halloween __and __my __prompt __was __for __a __bonfire __on __the __grounds __of __Hogwarts, __the __first __Halloween __after __the __Final __Battle, __and __"something __silly" __on __the __girl's __underwear._

The last time that anyone in Hogsmeade Village had looked toward Hogwarts and seen flames, it had been several months before and a much different set of circumstances. The last time the flames had trumpeted in what might have ended with the death of their boy hero, and the end of the wizarding world as they knew it. Hogwarts hadn't faired so well that night; it had faced a good deal of death and destruction that fateful day in May. And scars. Oh, the scars it had left.

This time it was different. The front grounds were alit with a giant bonfire, and rather than flames toasting the school, marshmallows, weinies and roasting sticks were all being held into the fire, bringing in the festival of Samhain.

For Lavender Brown it was a journey back to a place that had left her scarred and broken… for a while. The attack by Fenrir Greyback had left her on death's door, but she wasn't so easily beaten as all that. She was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors were fighters. She'd been willing to give up for a while, but despite her turbulent relationship with Weasley men in the past, it had strangely been a Weasley that had given her reason to carry on, to wear her battle scars with the pride of the brave woman she was. Mostly, she only felt brave because George Weasley assured her she was. They had met at St Mungo's where George continued to show up until the healers finally put him to work. Lavender thought it was because the loss of his brother had left him with the need to _do_something, and all things humourus were out of the question. Humour meant joy and laughter, and laughter was all of the best times with his brother. They were both recovering, but the laughs were few and far between on most days.

George's presence in the hospital, and lack thereof in his shop, had left (or so she heard from Parvati, consummate gossip that her best friend was) his brother, Ron, scrambling to keep the business running. Once upon a time, Lavender would have hoped that a million pygmy puffs would attack Ron Weasley and leave him maimed for life. She'd stopped doing that… sometime last week. It was growth, albeit slow.

When she arrived at Hogwarts on the night of October 31, 1998, she had to have her wand checked at the gate. Some people tried to sneak in with theirs, no doubt for a bit of mischief making, but the wards simply expelled them onto their bums and they were denied access back inside. They also got those stern looks from professors that were enough to turn their blood cold. Lavender saw a rather testy Blaise Zabini wiping off the seat of his trousers and cursing as he stomped down the High Street of Hogsmeade, as a group of young girls (probably only first years given their miniature size) laughed and pointed from behind the gates.

With her typical compassionate demeanour, Parvati, who was standing at the gates awaiting Lavender's arrival, shook her fist at him and then stuck out her tongue. "Not even Slytherins get to break the rules tonight, Zabini!" she shouted.

Lavender shook her head, but couldn't help smiling when Parvati wrapped her in a hug and whispered, "Did you see his arse? I hate to see him go, but I sure love to watch him leave. I swear he only gets better looking. I think he's been working out."

"And I'm sure he'll appreciate the fact that you shouted and humiliated him in front of everyone."

Parvati tsked at her. "I swear you're a slow learner. Sure, I embarrassed him, but the key is that he'll _remember_me."

"He'll remember you were a bitch."

"I know, isn't it great? You think he'll ask me to the Ministry's Holiday Ball in December? I wonder if he breaks the rules in bed. Gods, I love a naughty man!"

Sometimes you can only shake your head at Parvati. Lavender chose to exercise that option then. "Come on, you freak, let's get in line to get in. This damn line stretches halfway around Zonko's. I'm sure all the marshmallows will be gone by the time we get in." Lavender had really had her little heart set on some gooey marshmallowy goodness.

And that's when the Parvati took embarrassment to another level—and Lavender considered murdering her best friend. "Make way! Make way! Big damn war heroes coming through. My friend tackled a werewolf for all you morons, the least you can do is give the girl a marshmallow." One poor child, apparently separated from his mother, had the misfortune of being in Parvati's path—"Dear Merlin, my friend wants a marshmallow—move it, you pint-sized little beast!"

There were days (this particular day being one of them) when Lavender so missed the pre-war Parvati. The quiet girl who giggled in the corner and sneaked into the Quidditch locker rooms with her for some good old-fashioned voyeurism was no more. A fall down a staircase during the final battle and the death of both parents had ripped off the surface niceties, and what remained was a girl who took life by the horns and lived each day to its very fullest… and loudly. So very, very loudly. Life with Parvati was never quiet.

Luckily for Lavender, Parvati saw Zacharias Smith as soon as they entered. That's when the shouting started anew.

"Well, look who it is!" Parvati screeched. "Old Run-While-You-Can-and-Knock-Over-Firsties-In-The-Process Smith! His hair's as yellow as his belly!"

People were staring, mostly at Zach (thankfully), but a good many eyes were turned their way too.

"Parvati!" Lavender's voice was about twelve decibels (not that Lavender really knew what decibels were, but twelve sounded like a good number) quieter, and did nothing to slow down (or quiet down) her friend. "Parvati, be nice!"

"Nice gets you no where! Naughty—now naughty'll get you a slap on the bum, and a toe curling orgasm."

She certainly had Lavender's attention (of course, by this time, she had most people's attention-if the shouting hadn't done it the whole "slap on the bum" bit had). "So calling people names now gives you orgasms?"

Parvati looked at her like she'd suffered some massive brain trauma. "Of course not. I've insulted him, now I'll get him naked in the forest." Parvati hurried away, tossing a "catch you later and enjoy the marshmallows" over her shoulder.

"In some alternate bizarro land, I'm sure that makes complete sense." Lavender shook her head and headed toward the bonfire, where the marshmallows awaited. She was about four steps from the fire and sticky, sugary, amazing goodness, when George Weasley stepped in front of her.

"What happened to Betty Bullhorn?"

"Betty—I'm sorry. Who?"

George smiled and looked back the way Lavender had just come. "Betty Bullhorn. The one screaming insults at that terrified looking tall boy."

Lavender shrugged. "I'm told insults lead to orgasms."

"Good to know. I'll remember that the next time I take a bird home. Maybe if I call her a cow, she'll do me before we even get to the bedroom and I'm required to change the sheets when she leaves. It'd save loads of time doing the wash."

"Yes, try that. The next time I see you with a black eye, I'll know how it worked for you." Lavender gave George a look up and down. "What in Merlin's name are you wearing?"  
"A costume. It is Halloween, you know."

Lavender had understood that costumes wouldn't be allowed at the bonfire. Extra security measures were in place to keep out people who were not meant to be there, and costumes would make that much harder. George Weasley, however, had managed to circumvent that rule—he always had had a knack for rule-breaking. There was something refreshing normal about seeing that he was up to his old tricks. It was comforting.

"So, tell me what you see, Brown?"

Lavender tilted her head, first to one side then the other. "Um…" There was really no nice way to say it. "You look like a giant marshmallow man."

"Been back in the lab creating some new stuff for the shop. It's hard without—you know, but it's time I get back to something a little normal," George said. "You see what you most desire. It's how I got in undetected. Though from the way old McGonagall was looking me over at the door, well, I hate to think what I was—or wasn't—wearing. I always knew she was a feisty one."

Giving a terse nod, and a slight giggle, Lavender said, "And you thought this was the best place to try out your new product?"

"Of course." George gave a look around and took a step back, pushing Lavender in front of him. He whispered, "Why are they looking at me like that?" All eyes were on him, and some of the people around the bonfire actually appeared to be drooling.

"I suspect that despite my desire for marshmallows, some of them came here this evening with other desires on their minds. You probably look like a nice, fresh piece of-"

"Oh good grief!" George grabbed Lavender by the shoulders and began walking backwards toward the Forbidden Forest, using her as his shield. He only stopped when they were under the cover of trees and shrubbery. "They were looking at me like I was a piece of meat! And they were starving!"

"I think your product needs some bugs worked out of it." She thought for a minute. "Or a really strong warning label."

"You're not wrong." He pulled his wand from his pocket and lifted the spell. Now he was just George in a pair of jeans and a button down flannel shirt. Not nearly so sugary or tasty as Mr Marshmallow Man.

"How did you get that in here?" Lavender gasped. "Wands are supposed to be checked at the gate for retrieval when you leave!"

George twirled the wand around his fingers in an intricate movement that made Lavender jealous of his dexterity. "And _my_wand is at the gate, with all the wands of the other good little boys and girls. This wand happens to belong to my brother."

"You rule bender!"

"Goody Two-Shoes," George fired back.

"I am not!" Lavender crossed her arms and stomped her foot. She wasn't about to be outdone. There was something about the cool air, being back in school and the proximity of someone with a penchant for rule-breaking that made her revert to her not-so-long ago teenage self. "Pain in the arse," she muttered.

"Cow." George said.

_Too far!_He'd gone too far. Lavender pulled back her foot, got her knee in position and before she could stop herself she gave him a good knee to the bollocks that felled him like a tree that someone had taken an axe to. He also howled like a little girl, which, if she wasn't feeling so guilty, she would have pointed out to him.

"Eep! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Lavender's hands were flapping around uselessly as she leaned over the victim of her fiery temper. "Are you okay?"

Once the moaning and rolling about subsided, which took quite a while, Lavender thought, and came with many dirty looks from George Weasley, he finally seemed recovered enough to reply. "Well, it wasn't a black eye, but I think we're supposed to have sex now, you know, if I can even do that anymore. I've heard it's the way things are done these days." With the pain gone, George seemed able to see the humour in the situation and the left side of his mouth quirked up into a sheepish grin. "Who knew it actually worked?"

"I'm so sorry I hurt you… even if you did completely deserve it." Lavender twisted her hands in worry.

"You're rubbish at apologies, you know that?"

"And you suck bollocks at taking responsibility for causing me to hurt you." It sounded weaker coming out of her mouth than she'd intended. She never had been very good at controlling her temper, but she actually liked George Weasley and felt a modicum of guilt at wounding his boy parts.

"You know, Brown, the old way of courting wasn't nearly so painful, and I think it might have ended with the same result and less men unable to bear children. What's with kids today?"

She couldn't stop herself. Laughter erupted from her lips, and she sat down beside George in the grass. "You sound like you're eighty years old."

"Feels that way sometimes," George replied. "We're not like them, are we? These new wizards and witches finding their way into Hogwarts; they'll never know what it was like to live the way we did. Most of them who did know will forget what it was like a few years from now; some of them, the Muggleborns, will only hear stories."

It was only then that Lavender truly realised what George had said. "Wait, that was an attempt to court me?"

"Alas, my wooing skills are clearly out of practise."

"You know," Lavender said, the guilt weighing heavy, and the discomfort of being wooed making her feel the need to flee, "I could go to the infirmary and get you an icepack for your willy."

"Guess my wooing skills aren't the only ones out of practise. Yours are even worse than mine. I wonder if Hogwarts could add a class on that to their agenda, taught by, you know, someone who's not us."

"Merlin help future generations if we were their teachers. And my skills are in no way worse than yours. You called me a cow. You should be grateful that your appendage is still attached to your body. Someone who didn't like you would have castrated you without a second thought."

"Lucky for me, I got you and your bad aiming knee then. Little more to the left next time if you're really planning to hurt someone."

"WHAT? I didn't even get you?" Lavender flew into George smacking at any part of him she could hit, and when he was successful at blocking her blows, she grabbed a handful of his needing-to-be-trimmed hair and yanked.

"Hair-pulling's against the rules!" George, in an attempt to pry free from her death grip tresses, knocked her legs out from beneath her and brought her to her knees. Despite George's attempts to free himself, she dug her fingers in deeper and held tight, giving intermittent scalp-ripping pulls.

Lavender gasped when George did the unthinkable. He lunged with both hands, and grabbed hands-full of her long, curly tresses and wrapped them through his fingers so that they were hopelessly entangled. Lavender screeched and a bat took off from a branch overhead, where, when Lavender looked up (which she had no choice but to do, since George was wrenching her head back with his grip on her hair), the moon was just peeking through.

George offered up a truce. "If you let go, I will."

Lavender's response was a yank; George groaned in agony and reciprocated. Lavender felt reflexive tears come into her eyes and searing scalp pain.

"You fight like a girl, Weasley." Insults were Lavender's go-to defence when she had nothing else.

"So do you!" George retorted.

"You do realise that's not an insult to someone who is a girl, right?" Lavender jerked again and was met with a like tug. They both grunted at the pain.

"Belatedly. It's hard to come up with good jibes when your head's being ripped off."

"You apologise, and I'll let go." Lavender didn't want to offer the truce, but she didn't want to be unreasonable either. It was good to be the bigger person… and the pain was getting rather severe.

"Wait, you want me to apologise for _not_letting you knee me in the nads? I mean you still got me a little bit. Feel better?"

Okay, once the words were out in the open, they did seem a little ridiculous. "A little."

"We let go on three then?"

Lavender agreed. "I will if you will."

"One, two…" Lavender gave one final tug for good measure before George could say three, and then they were both apart, and each was rubbing their own head.

"Is this how you usually try and get a girl into your bed, Weasley?" Lavender realised it was a bit of a jump from "wooing" to "bedding", but she decided to take a page out of Parvati's book and try living in the moment and not taking things for granted. Lavender hadn't dated since one bad date with a professional Quidditch player many months ago that had left her confidence damaged, but with George, Lavender felt a strange comfort (and throbbing scalp).

"Well, I usually save hair-pulling for the third date, you know after I see if she's into that stuff, but with you, I figured I'd go a more unconventional route." George used the contraband wand and transfigured his handkerchief into a blanket, which they both climbed upon to sit side by side after he promised Lavender it was clean.

"As if a couple of boogies would be the end of the world."

Lavender huffed and curled her calves beneath her. "I'm not having sex with you on a boogie-covered handkerchief."

George's eyes widened. "Wait! Are we having sex?"

"You do want to, don't you?"

Looking stunned, George nodded. "Fucking kids got it right. I've been doing this courting thing wrong for years."

"George."

"I mean, I pulled your hair, called you names, and now you want to have sex with me."

"George."

"How does that even happen?"

"George! It's about to happen to someone else if you don't shut up and kiss me!"

"Gods, you are adorable when you're all angry like that. Look your chest heaves and your boobies kind of do a dance all their own."

"You know, given how frustrating you are, as a general rule, chances are this is not the last time you'll ever see me angry. And again, you're talking and not kissing. You have two seconds before I get up from here and go over to the fire and roast a marshmallow. I came for marshmallows, you know."

"Well, marshmallows are hard to compare to. There's gooey sweetness and all that fluff. I'm thinking marshmallows would be a hard act to follow, and I'm kind of out of practice and all. You're giving me performance anxiety."

"Good Godric, if a girl wants something she just has to do it herself." Lavender was muttering the words under her breath, more at the ground than at George, but she threw a leg over his two outstretched ones so that she was sitting in his lap facing him. Then she grabbed his face between her palms and kissed him full on the mouth.

George attempted to push her away or get away himself, so Lavender leaned back and gave him a stern look. "So you don't like the way I kiss then?"

"You took me by surprise!" he protested. "What did you expect?"

"I expected you to kiss me back."

"You have to give me a minute to prepare myself." George straightened his shirt a bit, twisted his lips up into a ridiculous pucker, then motioned that he was ready.

Lavender started towards him then backed off. "Oh heavens, I can't kiss you when you're like that! You look like some fish… and fish would be offended by that statement, just so you know. That statement insults fish. I owe fish an apology for insinuating that they look as ridiculous as you."

"Oi! You're not one of those crazy animal rights people, are you?"

Lavender looked at his hair, very tempted to yank it all out. "Just what the hell are you trying to say? Animals have no voice; someone has to be there to protect them."

"Why's it always have to the loudest and most irrational people who do the speaking of harmless little bunnies and fluffy little kitty cats, or sensitive-about-their-lips fish?"

"That's it!" Lavender said, trying to push herself off George. "I can't have sex with someone who murders innocent kitty cats."

"Wait, what?" George grabbed her arm. "You go from disparaging fish with kissy face lips—I don't even think fish have lips to be honest—to murdering defenceless baby kitty cats in zero to sixty. Overreact much?" Almost as an afterthought he mumbled, "Besides I'm a dog person. You can't be a dog person and a cat person; I think there's a rule."

"You can be a dog person and not be a cat murderer!"

"Who's a cat murderer? Merlin, you're the strangest girl."

"I can't kiss someone if I know there's kitty blood on their hands."

"How do you feel about kissing someone who swears to have never harmed a single furry spot on any little kitties?"

"You swear?"

"I swear!"

"I guess I can kiss you then," Lavender conceded, "but if I hear you lied about the kitty killing, I'll hex your bollocks into a sailor's knot."

George pulled a face to indicate how unpleasant he thought that might be. "I promise to be kind to all kitties—"

"And bunnies," Lavender interjected. "I really like bunnies; they're really cute. I used to have one as a pet."

"Charlie had one, a bunny, I mean, when we were little. That thing hated me. It growled when I went near its cage."

"Clearly rabbits have better sense than I do. I'm still here with you in the woods. I'm even considering still having sex with you."

George sighed. "Whoo, I thought that ship might have sailed off on the backs of lipless fish."

"Don't push it, mister." Lavender shifted around on the blanket until she and George were shoulder to shoulder, and she had to admit she kind of liked it when George threw an awkward arm around her and pulled her in close.

"You're really cute when you get all passionate about stuff, Brown."

"Oh please," Lavender snorted. "I'm always cute. I'm just _super_cute when I'm passionate about something. Don't even get me started on baby unicorns. I'll be so adorable you won't be able to stand me."

George laughed; Lavender followed his laugh with a few giggles of her own, and before she really knew what was happening, George's lips were on hers, and he was kissing her. His lips were soft, his tongue gently probing, and when he wasn't puckering like a fish, Lavender had to admit George Weasley really knew how to kiss. She was a little breathless when they pulled apart.

"What was that all about?" Lavender asked.

"Adorable's hard to resist." He leaned in like he was going for another kiss. "Nigh on impossible not to kiss you when you're so damn cute."

Despite her pulse racing, Lavender managed to choke out the words, "I've always thought resisting temptation was overrated, myself."

"Is that an invitation?"

"Should I send an owl? Really, George, subtlety is a lost art on you. I have no idea how a girl ever gets you into bed."

George paused for a thoughtful look. "Well, usually the girls I take to bed aren't so talkative about bunnies. I'm not really into hair-pullers either."

"You started that!"

"I'm fairly certain I didn't."

It was at that unfortunate moment that a Ravenclaw boy that Lavender thought she recognised from her days at Hogwarts stumbled nearly on top of them, his arms encircled awkwardly around a younger girl wearing a Slytherin tie, as he attempted to shove her against a tree and get his hand down her thoroughly buttoned shirt; she was even still wearing a tie.

"Oy, this tree is taken!" George shouted. "Besides, you're never going to get a good feel if you try and go down a buttoned shirt." He looked at Lavender as the thoroughly humiliated boy stumbled off, while the girl he was with looked longingly at George. Lavender felt a surge of jealousy.

"Novices," George scoffed. "Poor girl is in for a very disappointing evening, if she thinks that bloke is going to offer her any pleasure."

"Well, at least he's trying," Lavender muttered.

George's face screwed up into a frown. "He's probably trying so hard because she's not a bunny-loving, sassy-pants."

"My pants wouldn't be so sassy if I wasn't still wearing them. My skirt's considering getting pretty lippy too, just for the record." Lavender rose up on her knees and started to stand. She shook her head and tsked. "I thought you were a sure thing, George Weasley. You disappoint me."

"Where're you going?"

"I'm pretty sure I saw Seamus Finnigan by the bonfire. If I'm lucky, he might still be trying to dispel those rumours about him and Dean Thomas in the Room of Requirement. A little public sex might do the trick to convince people he's not gay."

George, being the quick thinker that he said he was, grabbed Fred's wand and ropes shot out the end and tied her feet together, so that as Lavender stood, she found herself unable to take the first step.

"What the hell is that all about?" she demanded.

"I thought you might prefer to hop like one of those rabbits you love so much. It's a good look for you; it'll make those great tits of yours bounce."

"You untie my ankles this instant, George Weasley! Don't you think I won't hop away from you, 'cause I'll do it! Also, despite the inappropriate leer and the feeling that I should be offended, I do have great tits, so thanks for that." She gave an experimental hop to drive home her commitment to walking-er, hopping-out of here and would have fallen over if George hadn't caught her. He pushed her hard against the nearest tree and her back landed painfully against the rough bark. She hardly noticed the pain; George was on his knees before her, pressing her against the tree.

"Let's see what we can do about this lippy skirt."

"It's a lot less lippy right now," Lavender squeaked.

George pulled the hem of the skirt up and tucked it into the waistband, and Lavender felt the cool wind of the October evening hit her bare thighs as goosebumps raised on her flesh.

"I'm starting to understand why these knickers are being such sassy pants tonight. You're wearing Sunday undies on a Saturday. That's rather embarassing."

"Oy, it was wash day!" Lavender smacked at George's hand. "Don't make me pull your hair again."

"Well, it's very distracting to see the word 'Sunday' across your girly bits, when I know it's Saturday. I mean how's a bloke supposed to concentrate?"

"Hmm, gee, I have a suggestion." Lavender put her finger to her chin as though this was requiring a great deal of concentration. "You might try taking them off. Then you won't have to see 'Sunday'."

"I'll still know it was there though."

Lavender leaned out from the trunk of the tree to get a peek through the branches.

"What are you doing?"

"Hoping Seamus is still by the fire."

George shoved her back against the tree, grabbed both sides of her knickers and with a loud rip tossed them back over his shoulder.

"You ripped them! They're ruined!"

"Now I don't have to worry that you're wearing them on the wrong day," George said as though this made perfect sense.

"You know I might actually wear them on a different Sunday."

"But you might not, and that disturbs me. I feel it's my duty to keep that from happening."

"Your logic disturbs _me_... or the fact that you believe that is even remotely logical. Perhaps that's the most disturbing part."

George ran his hands up the outsides of her thighs, and Lavender felt her knees go a little shaky. His hands were rough from long hours spent developing products at the shop, and more recently from long hours nursing the sick at St Mungo's.

"I'm really tired of talking. There are far better things we could be doing," George said, cocking his head so that his fringe fell into his eyes. Lavender reached down absently and brushed it aside. He gave her a sly look and crawled back over to the handkerchief/blanket. "Why don't you join me?"

It was so inviting. So very wonderfully, inviting, and Lavender was the eager one. So eager, in fact, that in her haste to get to the blanket and pounce upon George, she forgot her ankles were tied together, attempted to step forward, and fell flat into the dead leaves on the forest floor. She came up swinging. "You just wait until I get my hands on you!"

"Not the best way to convince me to untie you. Just saying."

"If you don't untie me," Lavender shouted, "I'm going to tear off your testicles and feed them to a Niffler!"

"Okay then." George rushed over to where she was. "Yeah, that's a bit more persuasive."

He untied her with a swish of Fred's wand, and with her feet free, Lavender came up swinging. George went for the tackle, his only defence, and in moments they were rolling about, the dead leaves on the forest floor crunching beneath them. After several attempts, George finally got hold of both of Lavender's wrists and pulled them over her head, pinning her beneath him. Her breasts were heaving against his chest, and her breath was coming in short gasps.

"Fucking gorgeous," George said, and his lips crushed down on hers.

She wrapped her legs around his jeans-clad hips and bucked against the hard ridge of his bulge. He let go of her hands and she got one between them, deftly unbuckling his belt and popping loose the button on his trousers. "Take those off," she gasped between kisses, and while nothing else had gone as planned George was out of his jeans, pants and shoes before she could finish the sentence. Magic wasn't even involved in his undressing; it was pure skill.

"Are you ready?" George asked.

"Have been all night."

"If you want this to be good, you might try a little less sarcasm, and a little more 'Oh, George, that's the biggest cock I've ever seen.'"

Lavender pushed against his chest and looked down, then back up at George's face. "Really? You expect far better acting skills from me than I possess."

George frowned, brow furrowed.

"Oh, okay. I'm game to play the part. Ooh, George that's the biggest—" she burst into giggles. "Nope, sorry I can't do it with a straight face."

"Second biggest?"

"Well, I don't have a measuring tape, but maybe. Are we counting girth?" He looked so hopeful.

"Of course we don't count girth!" George exclaimed.

Tsking, Lavender looked down. "Then I guess you're third. I was giving you bonus points for girth. Women always count girth."

"They do?"

"Yeah, and you were pretty good in the girth department. I was impressed."

George smiled smugly. "Oh, you said girth, with a 'g'. I thought you said birth, and I wanted to make sure you knew I didn't have any kids or anything. That's important to girls, you know. It could ruin our budding relationship if I wasn't clear about those things." He snorted. "Of course, girth always counts."

"Then you're definitely second. I saw Oliver Wood through the peephole in the Quidditch changing rooms, and he takes first."

"We were on the same team. His cock really is gigantic; I remember. Quite impressive." George brought his knee up between Lavender's thighs.

"I know, right?" She ground down onto him. "I've heard your brother, Charlie, is even bigger than Oliver."

George slid his cock between her thighs and Lavender groaned, bucking up to meet him, wrapping her legs around him and matching him thrust for thrust. "You don't really believe that do you?"

"Your brother's gorgeous. I'd like to see for myself." Lavender grabbed at her nipples, pinching and tugging, as George drove into her.

"You'd be so disappointed. Three inches, maybe. I mean, if he's lucky. Gods, I love to watch you do that. Your tits are spectacular."

Lavender let out a moan of satisfaction when George pressed against her clit. "Are you sure this isn't just penis envy on your part?" she said.

"Why would I envy a three inch penis? I have no idea why—oh gods, that's nice—women want to believe Charlie is some sort of gods' gift to their gender."

"You have seen him, right? Those tattoos, the muscles. I'm going to come just thinking about it. Also, if you'd speed up just a little, that'd help."

"Well, whatever works for you, but you realise those tattoos are fake, and the muscles are magically enhanced. Why do girls never notice that his tattoos are never in the same place? Draws them on with a Muggle paint set, he does. He's gotta do something to compensate for his tiny willy. Could you shift a little to the left, and raise your leg like—oh, yeah, right there."

"That's nice. Here, give me your hand." He did and she pressed two of his fingers against her clit and began to work them back and forth. "Do you have any tattoos; they're dead sexy."

"I was thinking of getting one. Maybe I'll do it tomorrow. Good thing you talked to me before you made some kind of play for my brother, eh? What a disappointment that would have been. Just think what it would have done to your fantasies."

"Didn't realise how lucky I was to be with you and not your brother."

"'Cause I've got girth, remember."

"I remember. Stop boasting and fuck me, Girth Boy." Lavender pulled him down for a kiss. "I'm close."

"Me, too. What do you want to do when we're done here?" Lavender clenched her muscles around him. "Damn, that's brilliant."

Lavender smiled and tossed her head back; George attached his lips to her throat. "I was thinking we could have a few marshmallows. I've wanted marshmallows all night. I'm always hungry after sex, you know."

George groaned as he came, pulling Lavender into bliss with him. He was sweaty and sated atop her when he raised his head and grinned at her. "You know, I have marshmallows at my flat over the shop."

"George Weasley, are you inviting me to go home with you?"

"Maybe. I've probably got a lot more rumours to dispel about my brothers. Besides I'm not a big fan of marshmallows. Mum brought these over a few weeks ago, and it'd be a shame for them to go to waste, what with you liking them so much and all."

She grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him hard. "I heard your brother Bill has piercings all over his body."

"I have so much to teach you," George tsked.


End file.
